


Every You

by uumuu



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Blow Jobs, Double Penetration, Dubious Consent, Emotion Play, Light Bondage, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, Uncle/Nephew Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 11:31:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4704545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uumuu/pseuds/uumuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dreams have tricky ways of coming true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every You

**Author's Note:**

> For the emotion play/jealousy square in my Season of Kink card. 
> 
> This story takes place after 'And dreams of flying'. I had thought of writing something like this for a while and the square gave me the perfect excuse to finally do it.
> 
> Pityafinwë = Amrod  
> Telufinwë = Amras

“Good day, Uncle,” Pityafinwë greeted, spotting – fortuitously, as it seemed – Ñolofinwë walking towards himself and his twin down the deserted avenue, in the dull hour preceding the first mixing, when Tyelperion's light ebbed and Laurelin still slumbered.

Ñolofinwë had awoken from a dream – not a remarkably unpleasant one, but troubling nonetheless – and had intended to dispel its bitter aftertaste by taking a walk. The twins were the last people he would have liked to meet, or expected to. Coming across Telufinwë and Pityafinwë was a rare occurrence, in Tirion as anywhere else. It was a well known fact that they kept to themselves, preferring solitude to the company of people that weren't their parents or brothers. Many said their unsociable disposition was due to the unique connection between them, whatever the underlying condition of their having been born as twins – a split fëa, a doubled fëa (their father's marring) – was.

Whatever it was, they now stood at a few steps from him, and demanded his attention. He slowed down to greet them back, formally courteous, but immediately after he had brushed past them, Telufinwë addressed him again. 

“Do you like the enclosed garden, Uncle?”

Ñolofinwë stiffened – a minute movement, but enough to signal his uneasiness. He slowly turned around, mustering all his self-control to keep that uneasiness from his voice. The twins couldn't possibly know. 

“I do find it charming, yes.”

“Do you usually visit it in the mornings...or in the evenings?” 

They couldn't know, they couldn't – or perhaps they did. Telufinwë's honeyed tone was too insinuating, the wording itself too pointed, for his question to be guileless. 

“Whenever I feel inclined to, and have the time to do so.”

“Impeccable, circumspect answers, as befits one so versed in diplomacy,” Telufinwë tut-tutted. “It's only too bad that Tyelcormo saw you.”

Telufinwë could only have one particular instance of Tyelcormo seeing him in the vicinity of the enclosed garden in mind. The very afternoon about which he kept obsessing, the very reason why he was out at that hour and had run into them, but he still tried to feign incomprehension. “A lot of people see me in the gardens whenever I go there, I suppose.”

“Prowling around the enclosed garden, seeking lewd titillation?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” 

Telufinwë took a couple of steps towards him, and Pityafinwë followed. Ñolofinwë noticed that their hands were entwined...like Fëanáro's and Curufinwë's had been on that day. His right fist clenched around his own belt. 

“Poor, lonely Uncle Ñolofinwë. Do you simply like to spy, does it turn you?” Telufinwë gibed. “Or perhaps,” he went on, narrowing his eyes, “...it is Father you are after. It is Father whom you seek.”

Ñolofinwë's composure wavered. The images – the ones of memory as well as the ones that populated his dreams – seemed to come to life before his eyes. His head snapped from side to side, to make sure there was truly nobody around who could eavesdrop, catch even a sliver of Telufinwë's words. He made one more attempt to repel them.

“Beware of what you say. I am under no obligation to tolerate such ill-natured insinuations from my half-brother's youngest sons, and I will demand amends if you do not desist”.

No insult could have been uttered with more scorn than the word “half-brother”. The mask of friendliness peeled away from both twins' faces. The prickly glower that took its place made their features appear for what they were: a quasi-exact replica of their father's. Telufinwë in particular looked, in that moment, like a red-haired version of Fëanáro, with the same self-centred conceit that made Ñolofinwë want to smack him (or crawl at his feet and worship him). 

Pityafinwë spoke, evidently calmer than his younger brother. “On what pretext? Because we discerned the truth of your infatuation?”

“I have no time for this nonsense.” Ñolofinwë made to slip away, a little bit too hasty and undignified, but Telufinwë let go of his twin's hand and grabbed his left arm, stopping him. 

“I believe you do, on the contrary.” He nodded to Pityafinwë in silent communication. “We have a proposal, you ought to listen to us, or -”

“Are you threatening me?”

Pityafinwë's expression became unsettlingly serious. “We have noticed how you look at Father whenever you happen to be close enough to ogle. It would not be pretty for you if people were alerted to that. People would start observing you even if they didn't believe the rumour, and would end up noticing your infatuation.”

Ñolofinwë stared at the identical, damnably handsome faces – their mother's hair was further burnish to the infuriating perfection of the man who was his obsession – malice bare on them (he didn't doubt they would do what they had just said they would). 

“What about your brothers then, and your father? What if people discovered that he is in a sordid...execrable relationship with his sons. What if I recounted what I saw.”

“You admit it, at last.” 

“We are his sons, it is normal, expected even, for us to look at Father with all the love in the world. Only a perverse mind would construe an innocent demonstration of affection in a public place as a manifestation of what you define abhorrent desires...because such must be your opinion of the ones _you_ do harbour,” Pityafinwë responded.

“Nelyafinwë,” the name was more than an insult on Telufinwë's lips, it was a condemnation, “told us you leer at him every time he is in your presence. Like you wish to ravage him, or...kill him.”

“That is absurd, I -”

“And we have heard you don't sleep in the same room with your wife any longer. I wonder why. Do you take advantage of your solitude to relieve yourself, uttering a name you shouldn't? Or perhaps you take the male servants to your bed and pretend you are fucking somebody else.”

“I would do no such thing!”

Telufinwë opened his arms. “Stock gossip material. Not a few people are convinced Father's apprentices are his...what's the term?”

“Swains,” supplied Pityafinwë.

“Yes, his swains.” 

The notion seemed to be amusing to the twins, because they giggled – though the sound was even more jarring to Ñolofinwë's ears than Tyelcormo's laugh had been – before Pityafinwë fixed his gaze on him again. 

“I think we have a definite advantage over you.”

None of Ñolofinwë's nightmares compared to the reality that suddenly lunged at him. He felt cornered, caught between increasing embarrassment and fear that the prolonged conversation might attract somebody's attention. The twins had backed him against the wall of a house without him noticing. It didn't help that they were as tall as him.

“Therefore you should heed our proposal. It is fair, worry not. And it suits your...proclivities.”

Ñolofinwë looked from one twin to the other, as if dizzy. He felt like his lips moved of their own accord. “And it is?”

“It is quite simple: sleep with us.”

*

He accepted. 

The twins wouldn't reveal why they wanted to have sex with him, but that hardly mattered in the face of what was at stake. He didn't want to risk his wife and his children finding out (or anybody else, but most of all he didn't want his family to be damaged by his own carelessness). And it was easy to pretend that he had had no choice, that the responsibility for what was about to happen lay solely with the twins. 

The notion afforded him little comfort, because part of him revelled in that very feeling of helplessness.

The twins took him to their set of rooms in the royal palace, at a time when the rest of their family was not residing there.

Once inside, Ñolofinwë was quickly undressed and pushed down onto the low bed in the centre of the sparsely furnished room (he had never been there before, and under more relaxed circumstances he would have remarked on their simplicity). 

The twins, though still relatively young, weren't timid in the least (he wondered if they had grown up seeing their father and brothers together, and immediately suppressed that thought). They didn't seem to be bothered by the difference in age and station between them, either (they probably regarded themselves as superior to him, if anything). They trapped Ñolofinwë between themselves – Telufinwë sat in front of him, forcing him to splay his legs wide, and Pityafinwë behind him. Two pairs of hands explored his body; not the hands he wanted, but mockingly alike, the rough texture of the skin making it easy to imagine another craftsman's hands. 

“Do you too have sex with your father?” 

The question spewed from Ñolofinwë's lips in a gasp, as Telufinwë stroked his cock with one of those very hands.

“We never said any of us do.”

Pityafinwë grazed his nails over his belly. “That is something your unruly, salacious imagination has been diverting you with.” 

Ñolofinwë closed his eyes. His dreams had gone far beyond that one kiss he had espied, but he was _sure_ the kiss had not been wholesome, that so much more lay beneath it, just out of his own reach... 

His renewed brooding was nipped in the bud (and he was thankful for it), because Pityafinwë pulled on his hair from behind, exposing his neck for Telufinwë to bite. Ñolofinwë distinctly felt his teeth press into the tender skin at the base, and almost sink into it – a mark he would have to cover like he screened his lust, and its consequences.

The twins' caresses, bold but slow and lingering, overlapped to tease him, stoking rancour alongside lust.

He reopened his eyes and peered at Telufinwë's countenance – cocky, brazen, and assured of a love that was precluded to him, and that he would probably never allow himself to accept notwithstanding, because it would have meant spitting on too much of his existence. He raged at his own weakness for giving in, for subjecting himself to the twins' taunting. He hated his own body for responding so thirstily to them. He rebuked his heart for wanting more than a mockery of fulfilment. 

He lunged forward and tried to pin Telufinwë beneath himself, to reverse their positions, and be for once the one in control. In the struggle, their cocks brushed together, and pleasure like the prick of rose-thorns rattled him. It was lucky they weren't alone, because he didn't know what he would have done, had they been. The dream in which he murdered his half-brother's sons lurked dangerously at the threshold of his consciousness – a crouching lion ready for the jump. 

As it was, Pityafinwë slipped one arm around his neck, forcefully pulling him back and off of his twin. 

“That won't do,” he said through gritted teeth, meeting his twin's gaze over Ñolofinwë's shoulder with a hint of worry. Reassured that Telufinwë was fine, he went on, “we won't let you top.”

“We only let a small number of people do that,” Telufinwë sat up again and grasped Ñolofinwë's chin. The gesture held no gentleness, as did the words. “I bet you have your own guess of who they might be.”

“Well, time for you to get to work, since you're so eager. Suck him.”

Pityafinwë let go of his neck, and Ñolofinwë stooped forward again. He glanced at Telufinwë's erection, hesitant, yet craving at the same time. 

Telufinwë firmly pulled his head down towards it, using his hold on his chin, and he drew his legs back to bend down.

The first taste was accompanied by a pang of shame, but caused more by the fact that he wasn't as ashamed as he felt the situation would have warranted. His mouth opened wide. His lips wrapped around the tip, adhering to the taut, velvety skin, and tentatively moved downwards. He slid them over the ridge of Telufinwë's cockhead and the thick fold of foreskin still gathered against it. His tongue came forward and slowly traced the uneven surface, swirling around the girth of the shaft. Telufinwë moaned in appreciation, and his heavy hands glided to the top of Ñolofinwë's head, keeping him in place, demanding more. Ñolofinwë did his best to comply and soon felt the shaft harden even more under the clumsy laps of his tongue, until Telufinwë's foreskin completely retreated and Ñolofinwë had to take his shaft deeper into his mouth, fighting his gag reflex, to reach it with his tongue.

Pityafinwë grabbed his hips, and guided him to kneel with legs spread. He had barely a moment to reflect on how wanton the position made him look – completely exposed with his mouth slithering over his nephew's cock – before an oiled finger was stuck in his ass, and quickly a second one. 

“You don't get fucked often, do you?” Pityafinwë remarked, twisting his fingers inside his passage, pushing against his walls with deliberate roughness. “So, how would you like to lie with Father? Pin him down and have your way with him?”

Ñolofinwë moaned at the image, swallowed his own spittle around Telufinwë's cock, tasting his precome with it, and had to quickly pull back, coughing a little.

Telufinwë's hands tangled in his hair and massaged his scalp, letting him regain his breath before pushing his head down again and to the side.

“This fixation of yours also explains why you only have three children, why your younger brother had four in half the time you had your own,” Pityafinwë went on, moving his fingers in and out. 

Ñolofinwë dragged his mouth down the side of Telufinwë's cock and to the base, and hungrily licked each of the sperm-heavy balls while the shaft rubbed against his face. Telufinwë again moaned above him, and he tried to imagine how Fëanáro would have reacted under the same treatment. If he would have let himself go as his son did, slightly bucking his hips. If he would have stared down at him, with those piercing eyes of his, inflaming him to the point where he would have simply let him fuck his throat. If he would have tasted the same, his precome hot on his tongue. Or if he was in fact in Fëanáro's position, and if that was what Fëanáro tasted, what he looked up at while he pleasured his own son. 

“Enough,” Telufinwë groaned not long after, tugging Ñolofinwë's head away from his crotch, and wrenching him from his imaginings. “Is he ready?”

“As ready as he can be, go,” Pityafinwë replied, withdrawing his fingers and delivering a hard slap to the middle of Ñolofinwë's ass.

Ñolofinwë jerked forward, practically landing into the younger twin's arms. Telufinwë pulled him over his groin and lay back, expecting him to do the rest. Ñolofinwë, however, once again hesitated. 

“Well? You can do it,” Pityafinwë said, gaping his hole with both thumbs. “Close your eyes and picture Father...or perhaps it wouldn't help to do that?”

It helped too much: his cock twitched and bobbed without him moving. It bobbed more when he shifted on his knees, and squatted down, taking the shaft slicked with his own spit in his right hand. The position laid him and his desire bare, but allowed him to control the act, set his own pace, and he took Telufinwë's cock inside him bit by bit. Taking it that way also meant the penetration would be particularly deep. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he was steadily filled, until after what seemed a bloated length time his buttocks made contact with his nephew's thighs. His back slowly relaxed, and he willed his inner muscles to adjust to the intrusion.

“...You would have loved to have Father so far up your ass, wouldn't you?” Telufinwë said, rubbing his tense thighs, and he moaned his assent, the sensation erasing all his earlier misgivings. “Pretend you are. Move.” 

Ñolofinwë knew it would be hurtful to do that, but he couldn't resist. He bit his lower lip and moved, cautiously at first, moving slowly up and even more gingerly down, balancing himself with his hands on Telufinwë's stomach. He didn't need to do much to imagine Fëanáro in Telufinwë's position, he only had to narrow his eyes, block out the red of Telufinwë's hair, and the hot thickness that split him open and stroked his insides was his half-brother's. 

It was exactly like one of his dreams, but given a body. He rolled his hips, began to gain more confidence in his movements, and with that came pleasure, thrilling unlike any he had known before. He could have lost himself in it, he was so close –...but Pityafinwë suddenly gripped his wrists and pulled his arms behind his back, tying them together with one of their belts.

“What -”

“It's going to make things more interesting.”

“Release me,” Ñolofinwë commanded, but without any bite to it. There could never have been, not when even the attempt to turn and look at the older twin renewed and deepened the first strain of penetration. A delicious shiver coursed through him, making his spine curve.

“Move,” Telufinwë urged again. 

Ñolofinwë gritted his teeth, but did. He had less purchase to regulate his movements, which became uneven, and as his legs began to tire, every time he slid up he slid back down again forcefully with a resounding smack.

He was soon out of breath, and his movements were reduced to feeble jolts of his hips, but instead of fucking him himself, Telufinwë nodded to his twin, who had Ñolofinwë bend, and brought his fingers to his ass once more.

“What are you doing now?” Ñolofinwë panted.

“Loosening you up more, to get in too.”

Ñolofinwë's eyes widened and he tried to straighten, but Telufinwë kept him down by promptly gripping his sides. 

“It's impos -”

“Don't worry, we know how to do it,” Pityafinwë said in what would have been a reassuring tone.

“We practised a lot,” Telufinwë added, digging his nails into his skin. 

Ñolofinwë couldn't help wondering with whom they had practised, even as his muscles clenched against the additional intrusion.

“You've never done it before?”

Ñolofinwë feebly shook his head. His forehead was pressed against Telufinwë's shoulder. 

“Then we'll be particularly careful,” Telufinwë said, craning his neck to kiss the top of his head. “For us, as twins, it's marvellous...though our brothers like it too.”

“Never even took it into consideration?” Pityafinwë insisted.

“Why-...would I?”

Pityafinwë snickered, sounding more amused than mocking, however. “You know, I don't believe your wife is the only person you've ever bedded.”

“I love her -”

“I haven't said the contrary. But love and sex need not be confined to one person, do they?”

“Who was it?” Telufinwë asked. “Who eases your longing?”

Ñolofinwë held his breath as Pityafinwë's fingers circled around his brother's erection and Telufinwë jostled slightly into him “A...a palace attendant,” he admitted,“but I...care for him.”

“That's nice.”

He wasn't sure how long Pityafinwë kept fingering his already full ass. At one point he started hoping that the twins might actually have reconsidered their decision. His hope was dashed when the bed on either side of him dipped and Pityafinwë knelt over his brother's legs. The next moment the tip of his cock was at his opening.

“Imagine doing this with Father,” Telufinwë said, encircling his back with his arms in a way that was – perhaps not unintentionally – soothing as his twin pushed in.

“Who would you want with him, moving inside you? Your lover?”

He said nothing in response. He didn't need to imagine being with Fëanáro, not anymore, because the sensation was too overpowering, and his mind couldn't keep up. It lost none of its starkness even if Pityafinwë seemed ultimately more intent in brushing his cock against his brother's than properly fucking him. He could barely keep his eyes open. The squelching and slapping, even the way Pityafinwë's hands held him in place, every detail of it was inebriating.

Then one hand snuck to his erection, and he came after only a few tugs. He hadn't realised how close he was to release. 

He came and it was as if all strength had been sapped from him – not merely physically. Tension, the accumulated restlessness of unfulfilling days and sleepless nights, melted away. He went completely limp, lying half on Telufinwë's body half on the mattress, and snuggled against him. His eyes fluttered shut, and then he was in one of his dreams. The warmth that swaddled him was the one he longed for. The strong arms wrapped around his back were Fëanáro's. 

He was with him, and he was happy.


End file.
